A girl about three years old is performing cartwheels on Bothwell Main Street with the insouciance of youth as if everyone should do the occasional cartwheel. A similar aged boy is trying to spin round on the spot using one hand on the pavement as the axis of his spin, but falls on his backside halfway round, before trying again. A girl in a pink tutu is serenely standing still.

There are three men dressed in black providing security, but this is Bothwell, one of Scotland's most middle-class of enclaves where security usually consists of checking that your golf clubs are locked securely in your car boot. The three security men will rarely have such an easy shift.

A crowd of about 100 folk are now gathered outside a former bank building opposite the splendid red sandstone Bothwell Parish Church. They begin to chant "Ashley, Ashley, Ashley." The cry is even taken up by three or four topers dragging on their fags outside the Douglas Arms next to the church, even though they possibly have little idea who Ashley is.

Then the door of the former Cydesdale Bank opens and out comes Ashley, a smiling, fit, loose-limbed chap of about six foot six. "He's a giant," says one of the women outside. "He's really, really gorgeous." He is also wearing a checked cap, but somehow it seems far more stylish on his napper even though it is of the style normally favoured in dark boozers by men squinting at a newspaper's racing card. For this is Ashley Banjo, leader of the Diversity dance group who, let's not forget, beat Scotland's own Susan Boyle in the final of television behemoth Britain's Got Talent. He is here in Bothwell to give a little razzmataz to the opening of a dance studio. A building where money was handed across with barely a murmur will now have a far more joyous and noisy clientele. Such is the lure of the celebrity however, that only by flying Ashley and wife Francesca up from London to Bothwell for the opening, would such a crowd gather. They don't normally like to make a fuss in Bothwell. TV stars, other than Rangers and Celtic players, are not normally found in the douce Lanarkshire village, just a few miles south-east of Glasgow.

Fortunately Ashley does not fail to impress the crowd. He praises young Louise McHendrie for opening Dance Inc. Studio in the village. "How incredible is she? You can't be in better hands," Ashley tells the Main Street gawkers, before patiently spending a couple of hours meeting all the young would-be dancers, mothers and grandmothers who want to say hello to him, and more importantly have their picture taken with him. It's one thing meeting a celebrity but it doesn't really count until you have put your picture with him out on Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram and any other social media site you favour.

Hovering in the background is Louise, and like Michelle Mone, a woman who has gathered headlines and opprobrium in large quantities recently, Louise is a young businesswoman from Glasgow's east end. But she seems more comfortable within herself than the fragile and brittle Michelle. Louise, growing up in Parkhead, told teachers she wanted to dance when she left school. She was told she was not going to make a career out of dancing in that kindly way teachers do if they think you are being too fanciful. Well, the Dance Inc studio in Bothwell is now her second, following on from one in Busby, and she is also principal teacher of two Razzamataz theatre school branches - the company that business mogul Duncan Bannatyne put money into after a successful pitch on Dragon's Den.

On one wall of the Bothwell studio is painted the aphorism "If you can dream it you can do it" although my personal dream of scoring a cup winning goal for Motherwell seems unlikely. Even sadder it even seems unlikely for Motherwell players, but I digress. The T-shirts of Dance Inc state "Dream. Believe. Achieve" and it clearly is something that Louise, from her modest Parkhead beginnings, has adopted.

So why is dance so popular I ask her. She is not, she says, trying to churn out hundreds of professional dancers. Instead the classes for children as young as two, give them, apart from the ability to dance of course, lots of confidence and social skills. Once that dance music gets inside you then you can shed your inhibitions. And being Scottish we have of course lots of those. It's one thing schools getting you through your examinations, but if you don't have the confidence to sell yourself, to make an impact, then you might not go as far as you could.

"If you are shy, as soon as you start dancing you lose it," says Louise.

Ashley agrees. "Benefits of dancing? The list is endless," he tells me. "Fitness. Your health. It helps keep your brain active. Socialising. You learn new skills. It helps you perform in other walks of life. It helps you express yourself and helps you come out of your shell."

The other benefit that Ashley and Diversity have brought is making dance cool for boys. No longer are they just the sullen types shanghaied into country dancing every year by gym teachers before the school dance. Instead they can go to hip hop and street dancing classes where the physicality of the moves is far removed from a sedate St Bernard's Waltz.

Yes, we all enjoyed the Billy Elliot film and theatre show, but in truth few boys are likely to go to ballet classes. Street dance however brings a boisterousness to the dance floor that teenage boys can enthusiastically engage in.

So dance is more popular than ever, especially as youngsters want to copy the complicated moves of pop stars on the videos of them performing that they download from Youtube. And thanks to a young woman from Parkhead, even sedate Bothwell can now cut a few shapes - whatever that means.